Forgive Yourself
by magicandmoriarty
Summary: Loki's POV-After TTDW.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my new story! I saw Thor: The Dark World on thursday and wow. loki 3 anyway...**

"I'm sorry." Loki gasped out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Thor cradled him, and through slitted eyes, Loki could see that his were full of tears. He felt bad, awful, making him believe that yet another family member was dying for him.

"I will tell Father of what you did today," Thor choked out, his deep voice clogged with tears and misery.

"I didn't…do it for him..." Loki said.

_And now,_ he thought, _time to die._ He let his eyes flutter shut. It would be his most powerful glamour yet, but he'd been practicing for ages, what else was there to do in that damned cell? He conjured up all his strength, and forced out the magic, turning his face a pale grey, and willing his limbs cold. He created a false heartbeat underneath it all, and slowed that to a stop. He took on the image of a corpse, a dead man slain in battle. He felt Thor squeeze him tightly, heard him give a roar of pain and grief and loss. He fought to keep the glamour working. _Leave,_ he thought. And they did, he could hear Jane guiding Thor to his feel and shuffling away across the dark, cold, ash-covered ground.

Loki lay still for a few minutes longer, although he let the glamour go. And then he opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. Nothing was to be seen, except for the bodies of dead Dark Elves. And that made him remember something. Men from Asgard, perhaps even his brother, were sure to come looking for his body, and if it wasn't there? Then what? This place was like the Midgard moon, nothing lived here, should nothing _changed_ here. So what would happen when the men came looking for a dead man that wasn't actually dead? They weren't idiots, although he certainly didn't consider them _bright._ They would become suspicious, and then his whole plan would be ruined.

Loki stood, and turned around. His gaze once again fell on the dead Elves. Perhaps he could transform one of them? He walked over to a corpse and concentrated. The features began to change; the Elf changed in stature, his body turning from compact and muscled to lean and lithe. He grew softly curling black hair, spread out like a fan behind his head, which now sported a face exactly like Loki's. High cheekbones, slender nose, thin lips, and if he wanted to open the dead creature's eyes, he knew he would find them to be emerald, although clouded with death's haze. But this didn't take a lot of effort. Yes, he would be weaker while holding this image up, but as soon as they burned the body, the glamour's weight would be lifted off of him.

He hooked his hands under the shoulders of the dead elf, wincing at the doppelganger's limp, cold body. It was creepy, looking at himself dead. But he dismissed his disgust and dragged it over to where he was previously faking death. Leaving it sprawled on the ground, Loki marched away, heading for the cave and the portal he knew would take him to the human world.

Loki was in some kind of abandoned building, a warehouse, or a storage space. He walked hesitantly along the dirty, leaf-covered cement floor. It occurred to him that he should _probably _change his appearance; people didn't really go for the whole golden-helmet-and-scepter-I'm-taking-over-your-wor ld look. He wasn't in New York anymore, he could tell, but he had basically caused the almost downfall of an entire city. People would recognize him. Not to mention if he ran into Thor.

He turned his hair dark brown, and shortened it a bit, but it still curled down behind his ears comfortingly. He made himself shorter by a couple inches, and turned his bright green eyes to hazel. On an afterthought, he added a smattering of light freckles. Now. What to wear? God, he sounded like a teenage girl. But seriously. He couldn't exactly go out into some city in robes and a cape. He detected the sharp chill in the air, and so gave himself a long-sleeved green shirt and dark jeans, with black sneakers. There. He looked like a mortal. Simple, dull creatures. Imperfect. And on that imperfect note, he placed on the bridge of his nose large, square-framed glasses. Well, he thought he looked good.

_Now, off to find Thor and make sure he isn't getting himself into trouble._ _But, let's be honest, he most definitely is. _Loki sighed, jammed his hands into his pockets, and walked out into the chill wind. The landmarks were familiar. He'd been here before, last year. London. He didn't like it much. Too rainy. Even today, the sky was clouded over and a dull grey. He shivered. Ugh. He stopped in front of a store display window, showcasing televisions and radios. The local news was on, and he was sure if something big had happened, it would be playing that. But he knew where the worlds would align; he didn't need stupid mortal scientific equipment to tell him. He'd spent time watching the stars and reading the signs.

He took a left, internally knowing where to go. As he walked, he suddenly felt instantly lighter, stronger. He paused. The lack of the extra glamour. _They've just burned the body, _he realized. And he was overtaken by emotion. To be burned in Asgard was a sign of honor, reserved for soldiers bravely felled in battle and the members of the royal family. And yes- he was a part of the royal family, kind of. Technically, adopted member. But he was also thought of as a criminal. And so whatever happened back there, in that dead, cold world, had changed people's view of him. Changed _Odin's_ view of him, and even though Loki didn't care what Odin thought of him anymore, it was nice to finally feel wanted, loved. To feel equal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Next chapter! Oh Loki…I love you so…**

Loki was sitting on the stone steps of the library, waiting and watching, when suddenly the sound of shrill shrieks pierced his eardrum. He leapt up. It was time. He rushed around the side of the building, following the horde of people who had stopped to stare at the monstrous object drawing nearer and nearer. It cut through the blue-grey waters effortlessly, but it did not slow as it reached the bank. And that's when panic erupted. Carving a path through the manicured green lawn, the alien ship kept moving forward. Now _everyone_ was screaming, pushing and shoving in an effort to get away. Loki stumbled and almost fell amongst the screaming mass, but he forced himself to stay upright. There was dirt and smoke everywhere, stinging his eyes and nose.

The ship shuddered to a stop, amongst the torn-up grass and broken marble. Loki saw Thor, standing bravely alone. The ship's door opened, in a hiss of steam and light. Malekith walked out, in full armor, a grey cape swishing behind him. He couldn't hear anything when the two started talking, but he sure noticed when they started fighting. Dark Elf warriors tumbled out of the ship, running in all directions. Loki conjured up his spear. As the first soldier rushed around the side of the library, Loki pierced the heart in a fierce upwards motion. With a howl, the Elf sank to the ground, blood running over Loki's shoes. Then there were more, and there was a whirlwind of activity as Loki fought. But fighting off so many at one time was hard, and one especially strong Elf leapt upon him. Loki stumbled and fell, and was suddenly whipped through the air.

He landed with a thud on a walkway of shifting colors. The Bifröst. He had fallen through one of the many portals created by the worlds aligning. He was in Asgard, where he was supposed to have been burned only a few hours ago. It was dark-the middle of the night, and the city still glimmered with lights. The throne tower was alight, surprisingly, but it was a beacon. Loki quickly disguised himself again, and slunk through the twisting streets of the city. He entered the palace, and crept through the silenced hallways. Pushing open the creaking door, he let himself into the throne room, letting his disguise fall. He was eager to see Odin, wanted him to see that his son-_he must think of Loki as his son, right? He had to. He had burned him, honored him-_was alive. He walked along the hammered golden floor, steps almost soundless, catlike.

"Father…" he breathed out. Odin was slumped over on his throne, scepter lying unused on the ground. But at Loki's whisper, he jerked upright. His one eye narrowed.  
"Who are you?" he voiced. "Who takes the form of Loki Laufeyson?" Loki was taken aback.

"Father, it's me, Loki…"

"You're dead. You're supposed to be dead!" Loki was shocked, numb. Odin didn't respect him-he _hated_ him. He wanted Loki to be dead. Odin stood.

"You." He snarled. There was no hint of affection in his voice. Nothing that suggested that he was the one to bring up Loki, to train him to fight, to teach him. Nothing. His scepter was in his hand, leveled at Loki's heart. Loki froze. Was he going to avoid death at the hands of the enemy, only to be killed by his father-no, his _adopted _father's hand?

"Why do you hate me, Father?" he pled. "I saved Thor-I was fighting on Midgard against the elves!" Odin smiled, an evil smile that held no warmth at all.

"What, does your infallible knowledge fail you now, Loki of Jotun?"

And then it all clicked together. The fact that Odin knew exactly where Thor and Loki were at all times. The fact that the Elves somehow knew that too.

"You're on the side of the elves." Loki's voice came out in a dull monotone.

"Very good, very good!" Odin seemed sickeningly pleased.

"You betrayed us!" Loki screamed.

"Oh, I did no more wrong than you have done, Loki." It was true, and that made it all worse.

"You-you killed mother! You killed her!" Odin's face hardened. "Do NOT pretend to mourn the death of that woman, snake! She was not your mother! You did not love her!" he thundered. Loki growled, a sound low in his throat.

"You are not my father," he hissed. "But she shall _always _be my mother."

And with those words, Loki leapt forwards toward Odin, conjuring up his spear as he flew through the air. Odin turned his scepter on Loki, but he deflected it and rolled to the ground, coming into a crouch at the end. He sprang, like a cat, tackling Odin to the ground. Power coursed through his veins. It would be so easy, so easy to just tighten his hands around his neck and squeeze just a _bit_ too tight. Too easy. Loki let go, but bound him in place with a strong blow of magic. Loki smirked, watching the king struggle helplessly. _Serves him right. _Then he raised his hand. Odin's features began to change, the iconic face changing into one of an elf's.

"Guards!" Loki cried. When they came running in, answering the urgent call, they would not find Loki, the supposed-dead betrayer of the realms. No. Loki climbed the golden steps to the jewel-studded throne, listening to the clattering footsteps of the guards. He turned and sat on the throne, relishing the feeling of power. Finally, _finally_, he could make something of himself.

"Guards," he uttered. "I have found an elf lurking around the palace. I have struck him down, but there may be more. Take him to the dungeons, and search the city."

"Yes, King Odin," they intoned.

Loki hefted the scepter in one hand, loving the feel of it. Odin, bound and gagged, was towed away roughly, looking back with spiteful eyes.

"Goodbye." Loki grinned.

Finally.


	3. Chapter 3

**How are ya'll? Is it unbelievably cold where you guys are? It's snowing here! Sorry for the delay. I had a ton going on with school and sports and stuff. But here's a very late chapter three. **

Loki was finally happy. For once, _for once_ in his life he was important. God, he was more than important. He was invaluable. King. He was a king. And he was going to start making some changes around here. Changes that Odin thought were unnecessary, but then of course Odin would think that. He wasn't one of the oppressed, the poor, living in poverty. Expected to fight, but with no money for food, for armor...Odin didn't know what it felt like to be on the bottom of the chain. But Loki did. He did. And he was going to change everything.

The king regularly took complaints from citizens. Well, he didn't. His advisors did. Which meant Odin just sat back and let them reject everyone that came through the door. But this is where he would start. A king should be good to his subjects. Guide them. Help them. So when the bell tolled for the populace to begin coming in, he waved off the advisors, ignoring the shock on their faces. The people were equally shocked. They'd never approached the king, not face to face in years. Many stuttered, or posed their requests timidly and quietly. He tried to answer them kindly-give them help. He handed out gold coins for families needing food, clothes, shelter. But there was one request that blew him away and almost moved him to tears. The crowd was thinning, many people were leaving happy. Then a young mother, holding the hand of a young girl, moved forward. She knelt at Loki's feet. The girl looked up. Her eyes were cloudy, and it was obvious that she had no sight. But then, she tugged out of her mother's grasp and ran to Loki.

"Skíri!" the mother gasped. Loki almost jumped as the child, Skíri, grasped his legs. The mother stood frozen, unable to move through her fear. Skíri looked up.

"You are different," she said, in barely a whisper, but it rang through Loki's ears like a bell.

"I can see it. You are different. You are kind. She touched his outstretched hand.

"Skírlaug!" The mother's face went white. "Allfather, she's reading you-" the woman was trembling, scared out of her mind.

"No," Loki said. "Let her. This is interesting…" he trailed off as the girl motioned him downwards and began speaking rapidly, her young voice taking on the tones of a wise sage.

"Man of fire and magic. Trickster. Different. Alone. Abandoned. Hails from Jotunheim…you are not the Allfather. But your time is coming. Light, bright, glorious and and good."

She blinked. "Loki." She whispered. He looked at her, with wide, staring eyes. This young girl had figured out his secrets. And she was _blind_. She had to have some kind of power. But she had said he was good. Different.

Her mother stood stock-still, knees locked and still pale. He looked up at her and smiled. "What is your request?" She knelt again. "Allfather, I was wondering if you had any open positions in your home for a job. A maid, a cook, anything. I-I can do everything. " She was desperate, he could tell, and his heart cracked for her. And her daughter…

"Of course." Her face split into a smile, blinding. She leapt up.

"Allfather, thank you!"

"You can start tomorrow. Move in today. Do you need any help from my men?"

She shook her head, still smiling, tears in her eyes. "No, this is all I have." She motioned to Skíri, still clutching Loki's leg.

"Skíri and I, we're it. Thank you, thank you!" The woman was beautiful in her gratitude.

"What's your name?" He asked her.

"Lúta Alfrúndaughter."

He gave her a smile, the first true smile he'd given anyone in a long time.

Well, Lúta, welcome to the court."

With tears of gratitude still sparkling in her hazel eyes, she knelt and thanked him. He only wished it was him, Loki, that could give her this wish. He didn't want Odin to be seen as some glorious great sympathetic god.

Lúta pulled Skíri off of his leg.

"Say thank you, Skíri."

The child said nothing. He laughed. "Good luck to you, little one. I expect we can get a nursemaid to keep you out of trouble during the day."

This is what he wanted. _This_. This young girl was blessed, and cursed. Much like he had been. But she was loved, too. Unlike him. And he wanted her to grow up and be happy.

Unlike him.

Yet.

**Ugh I'm sorry. I didn't really know where to go with this. Hope it wasn't too awful. And I looked up old norse names for the OC's. Skíri is short for Skírlaug, which means clean, pure, or bright, which I thought is good because she sees things as they are, purely…and Lúta means to bow down to or pay homage to-which I thought was fitting as she owes this opportunity to Loki. **


End file.
